


close your eyes (you'll be here soon)

by y9gurt (rydellon)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Family Dynamics, Gen, Kinda, Realistic Minecraft, SPOILERS FOR NOVEMBER 16TH, Semi-Implied Panic Attack, Storms, Thunderstorms, TommyInnit-centric, Trauma, no beta we die like wilbur soot, not actually described but implied all the same, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, technically canon compliant, wood is slippery when wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydellon/pseuds/y9gurt
Summary: Tommy hadn’t found it all that much easier to sleep in Pogtopia. The ravine was large, and sounds echoed off the rocks enough that it could sound like someone was in the next room over when they were actually on an entirely other end of the place. However, in Pogtopia, the sounds of rain didn’t enter the ground at all. In Pogtopia, the constant patter on the roof didn’t get too loud, didn’t dig into your ears, didn’t sound vaguely reminiscent of what could be considered the worst day of Tommy’s life.OrThere's a thunderstorm outside of Tommy's house, and he longs to be back in the past.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 8
Kudos: 262





	close your eyes (you'll be here soon)

**Author's Note:**

> title from my time by bo en. this is the first thing ive finished in months and its about these goddamn block men. i am an enigma. pls kudos or even comment if you enjoyed

The storm outside was loud. The rain pounded unendingly on the iron roof of Tommy’s house, and he momentarily regretted making his entire house out of metal. Groaning, he twisted around in bed, and tried to (not for the first time that night) get comfortable and go to sleep.

It hadn’t been all that much easier to sleep in Pogtopia. The ravine was large and airy, and sounds echoed off the rocks enough that it could sound like someone was in the next room over when they were actually on an entirely other end of the place. However, in Pogtopia, the sounds of rain didn’t enter the ground at all. In Pogtopia, the constant patter on the roof didn’t get too loud, didn’t dig into your ears, didn’t sound vaguely reminiscent of what could be considered the worst day of Tommy’s life.

The night wasn’t even half done, and he was considering making the slippery trek down to L’Manburg to get to his house in the centre of the country. Maybe sleeping there wouldn’t have the same effect… 

But alas, Tommy was no pussy, and so he stayed where he was, wrapped up in a thin layer of blankets with his pillow shoved up against his ears to try and block out some of the noise.

It wasn’t like the events of that day had started Tommy’s aversion to storms either. If anything, what happened had amplified it to an even more debilitating level, leaving the child who used to cry under his bed not as the teenager who had grown out of that particular habit, but as one who just cried on top of it instead.

If Tommy thought hard enough, he could feel the phantom of his father’s arms (God, where the actual fuck was Phil when you needed him) on one of those horrifyingly frequent nights, where Tommy would be curled up in one of the cots that would be set up in those temporary homes Phil would build for them as they travelled. Phil would lie beside him, stroking his hair and whispering reassurances as Tommy would sob into his arms, rain pounding on whatever sort of roof Phil had gotten for them that time, thunder shaking the landscape and lightning lighting up their surroundings. 

Tommy would never admit it, but he would pay anything to be there right now. 

He would also never admit it, but nights when Wilbur and Techno woke up alongside him (and later Tubbo, once they’d found him) were even better than ones where it was just Phil.

He remembers one vividly. They had been in the middle of a wide open field, Phil’s wandering spirit having had to take a rest for the day as Tommy and Tubbo had declared they especially liked this particular field (“And not the eight ones we walked through before? Sure.” Techno had complained.) and that they wanted to stay there for the next few weeks. Phil had taken a glance around, at the ocean he could see in the distance and the fact that he could spot no civilization ahead, and then up towards the sky and the dark blue and gray clouds rolling in the distance and had sighed and agreed. He’d grabbed Techno to go walk to the forest a little ways away and gather supplies for the night, leaving Wilbur, Tubbo, and Tommy in the field.

The storm had started before they had all gone to sleep.

It had announced itself with an unseen lightning strike and a loud bout of thunder that had everybody in the room flinching, and Tommy burrowing further into his blanket, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden floor of the house. 

It hadn’t gone any better from there, and Tommy found himself (how old had he been? Maybe ten? Eleven?) curling up further, muffling his tears into the blanket as Wilbur strummed absentmindedly at his guitar while holding conversation with the other three residents of the house. He remembered Phil sidling up to him so as to not bring too much attention to the fact that he was crying, which he had been semi-grateful for at the time. The part of him that wasn’t grateful had wanted to curl up in his father’s arms, but Big Man Tommy was not about to do that in front of his siblings and best friend.

Tubbo had been the first other than Phil (who had known about Tommy’s Storm Thing prior to this incident) to notice, because of course he was. 

He had crawled over to say something to Tommy when he had noticed Phil’s proximity to him, and Tommy’s semi-obvious shaking, and had immediately burrowed under Tommy’s blanket, wrapping his best friend in his arms and covering them even more with his own blanket. 

Tommy had—of course—protested. Very weakly and in a way that was completely unconvincing and ineffective, as he had collapsed into Tubbo’s arms the second the other boy had managed to octopus-hug himself around Tommy, but protesting all the same. This gained the attention of Techno and Wilbur, the former chuckling until he got a glare from Phil and realized that this was a Serious Human Moment, and the latter cooing and placing his guitar down to join what was about to become an impromptu cuddle pile.

Wilbur joined, and Phil joined, and Techno was eventually coaxed over, the last piece in their five piece puzzle. Tommy remembered falling asleep warm and content, and waking up in the same position in the morning, surrounded by his family.

Tommy lay here now, six years later, cold, traumatized, and alone, and thought about what his life had gone through to get to this point.

One brother a ghost, one who had completely disowned him, and a father who may be about to side with one of his older brothers against him again (the same brother two, how unfair was this). At least he still had Tubbo, who was one wet walk away, and who was probably asleep in his nice wooden house built over the crater of the old L’Manburg. Tubbo, who he now had indirectly caused to become president of a crater of a country at the tender age of 16. Tubbo, who had placed him at his side once again, putting Tommy back in his role of vice president.

His wet, semi-happy laugh was barely audible over the rain.

Tommy did eventually fall asleep, dreams plagued with exploding countries and the feeling of wither skulls exploding on skin. When he woke up he could feel the semi-familiar crackle of dried tear tracks on his face, and quickly rubbed at them with his fists to get rid of them, hopping quickly out of his house to rush back to the centre of L’Manburg (being extra careful to watch his steps) to meet up with the rest of the cabinet for the beginning of the day.

At least it had stopped raining.

(Unnoticed, in the corner of Tommy’s house, a gray man with a yellow sweater floated. He had been there for a while, and was staring out the door at his youngest brother. He sighed, floating unseen through the wall to go find his father and other brother. They needed to talk.)

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://y9gurt.tumblr.com/)   
>  [my twitter](https://twitter.com/y9gurt)
> 
> i do art so check me out ig


End file.
